


Heritage - Reclaimed

by DixieDale



Category: Clan O'Donnell - Fandom, Garrison's Gorillas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-07-04 07:28:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15836580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: His heritage had been stripped from him, and that had left an emptiness he'd never filled.  Now, the opportunity had presented itself, a chance to reclaim that heritage.  Just, was the cost too great?  Would he end up regaining his heritage, but losing everything else, everyone else that had become so vitally important to him?





	Heritage - Reclaimed

**Author's Note:**

> Post-war, early on, almost immediately after the guys get their release and move to The Cottages.

Discovering there was a shared heritage, that was enough to stun him. Well, he should have expected something of the kind, having recognized those words, those terms of endearment Meghada had murmured to Goniff first when he'd been hurt, and later when he'd been drugged into a nightmare landscape by that Professor Crawleigh. The sight of that dreamcatcher, then her father as he entered the Common Room had shocked him, though, a vision out of his past made reality.

The book of stories, ancient Apache lore left by his bedside when they finally gained their freedom had lured him, comforted him, yet brought a growing sense of restlessness, an acknowledgement of what he was lacking. He wasn't sure what word to use, really, but it made him want more, though he wasn't sure more of WHAT. He already had more than he had dreamed possible; he was part of the team, part of the family. He was accepted, had a place with them. Still, the restlessness built.

She watched, knew Chief was becoming more and more restless with the ending of the missions and the business not yet in operation, like a half-wild yearling taken out of a rugged and sometimes harsh, yet familar environment. She'd seen that with some of the young horses who'd run wild for longer than a season. Even though they were in a comfortable stall with a wide corral, food and water close at hand, being given kind treatment, they were torn, restless, heads often tilted up to scent the far-away mountain air. The comfort and safety, the gentle treatment and loving hands pulled them to stay, but the lingering memories of running wild, the night breezes, the freedom to go and do as they pleased tugged ever at their insides.

She remembered her father telling her, when she'd cried after her favorite such one had accepted the offer of an open corral gate and dashed away, "little one, he has to choose; it is his right". She had cried again when, weeks later, he'd appeared once more, this time with a more settled air, and had leaned into her arms and snorted his welcome, lipping her hair affectionately. Lupan had just nodded, opened that gate and let the horse back in.

She'd asked then, "did you know he'd come back, Da?" and Lupan had shook his head wisely, "even HE didn't know he'd come back; but, little one, it had to be his decision. There was enough of the wild in him; it had to be his decision. I wouldn't hold him against his will."

The visit from her father couldn't have come at a better time. "Da? There's something we have to talk about, I think. I need your help." The calm look of expectation, of waiting on her father's face as she addressed him in that early childhood term had not surprised her. Even as different as she had grown through the years, as different as truly she had been from her earliest years, she'd always been aware of his solid, stable support. He had always been there for her; only, now, she didn't need his support for her. She needed it for her newest 'younger brother', one who had become brother-in-spirit not just to those she had gathered close to her, but to her brothers-in-blood, Ian and Patrick and Douglas and Michael. 

"You sure this is a good thing to do, 'Gaida? W'at if once 'e gets there, 'e decides not to come back again? Chiefy's one of us; we don't want 'im gone. We NEED 'im," Goniff had worried when she'd first presented the notion to him and Garrison.

"I don't want him gone, either; but, he's searching for something, inside, and doesn't seem to be having any success with it. You know he feels he's lost so much of his heritage; Chief has a lot of the shaman in him, though his training stopped almost before it got started. It can't be easy knowing there is so much wisdom, so much power, just hovering right out of his reach. I think my father could help. He's not of a shaman line, but he knows those who are, who've practiced their gifts, who might be willing to train another, if that's what Chief wants."

"But if 'e don't come back . . ." Goniff argued once again.

"Then, maybe that's because he wasn't meant to be here forever," Craig Garrison spoke up, quiet understanding and sympathy in his voice. The quick rebellious tilt of Goniff's head brought a small smile to Craig's face, "I'm not saying we don't want him to stay, that I don't think he should stay. Just, he's never really been given the chance, the choice. I think Meghada is right. It needs to be his decision; I think that's the best gift we could give him - the opportunity to find out." 

Finally their resident pickpocket agreed, and Meghada let her father know, made sure everyone stayed clear while Lupan spent the afternoon with Chief. Chief didn't truly understand what was happening, she knew that, but it was imperative that he DID understand, did see the choices he had, the roles he could play, eventually that HE choose the position he was to hold, the place he was to call home. Somehow, she knew it was up to her father to make Chief see all that, give him what he needed to make that determination. Somehow . . .

Chief didn't know how Meghada knew, understood so much, but she did. The invitation to join Lupan at his home, then on a trip back to the States, to the reservation where Lupan still had family - it enthralled him, and he didn't hesitate. Well, not much.

There was a sadness in leaving the men he'd formed such a bond with, a wondering if he would be returning, and if he did return, would he be the same man. Garrison, Actor, they were matter-of-fact, helping with whatever Chief needed, whether it was to talk or just to share a quiet drink. Goniff was in his usual supportive mother-hen role, but his anxious concern was evident. When the time came for parting, Chief's eyes lingered on Casino, acknowledging the gruff, even hurt, bewilderment in those brown eyes. He wanted to say something, but didn't know what words to use, so settled for a nod and a tight clasp of Casino's shoulder. He left, without looking back; he was half afraid if he DID look back, he'd never leave.

They spent hours together, walking the land, working with the dogs, the horses, talking, sometimes just being silent together. There were long rides into the surrounding lands, into the mountains, with Lupan pointing out animals and plants that Chief had never seen before. Beyond that, Chief spent hours in the library Lupan and Felane had collected - volume after volume.

"Clan history is over here; I've tagged the ones that relate to their interaction with the tribes. Books about the tribes, history, legend, poetry - those are over here. I've put tags on the ones dealing specifically with the Apache. Help yourself, Chief; there's nothing in here off-limits. I do have a few things locked away, but I'll show them to you whenever you want - they're not secret, just very old and very fragile. The children all know how to handle books carefully, with respect, but accidents can happen, and I don't want to lose these. And besides, they would be devastated if they damaged them." 

Felane was kind to him, welcoming but left him mostly to Lupan's company. She spent her days working with the horses, or in the gardens. She was always there for meals, though, and the smells, the spices brought a smile to his face. He knew many of the meals Meghada had fed them had their origins in his heritage; he'd wondered once whether she had searched them out just to please him, like she'd done with the Italian meals for Casino, or the ever-present desserts for Goniff. Now, he knew they were just part of what she considered 'home cooking'; he told Felane that, and the woman had just nodded, smiling.

"I had one or two recipes from the Clan that drew on those spices, but for Lupan I learned much more. It's what he truly enjoys, and the children did as well," she told him as she handed him a plate with a golden brown fritter, sweetened with honey and heavily laden with ripe blackberries.

He looked at it, remembering. "I had this as a boy," and laughed as she laid a small mound of home-churned ice cream in the middle. "Without the ice cream, though."

Lupan grinned, "it's good both ways, and sometimes she whips heavy cream and ladles that on top. That might even be my favorite, though I might have to have them all side by side to do a taste test to be sure."

Chief gave a slow grin, "better invite Goniff for that; he'll think he's died and gone to heaven! Course, it'll just get him to thinking Meghada has to serve three desserts with every meal, so maybe better run the idea past her first." They laughed and dug into the rich hearty dessert.

"Chief, after we finish, let's talk about the trip; if you still want to go, there's some people I think you would like to meet." 

Chief sat back in the big chair, thinking of all Lupan had told him, all they'd discussed. An opportunity to meet a group of shamans Lupan knew, a chance to learn more about his heritage. Maybe, just maybe, a chance to learn what he himself was capable of.

He knew he held a spark; he'd recognized Meghada's fire-gazing for what it was, he'd been able to help her in tracing Goniff with a scrying ceremony. There had been other times when he'd gotten a glimpse of what she could do; it had aroused almost an echo effect within him, an understanding that he too could, well, at least had the potential for doing much the same. The potential, but not the knowledge, and that was a painful thing to understand, the limitations his lack of training had imposed upon him.

Now, he struggled within himself. If he could be more, he wanted that to the depths of his spirit. But would that mean he would have to give up the new family he'd found, his brothers-in-spirit, Meghada and all the rest? The memory of rich brown eyes flickered through his mind once again. His thoughts were still twisting, one way, then another, when he drifted off to sleep, still in the big comfortable chair in front of the fire. And in his sleep, he walked in another place entirely . . .

***He wore only a pair of buckskin pants, fringes to the sides. Even his feet were bare, so that he could feel the warm dust beneath them. The mountains were ahead, and he moved steadily towards them, seeing the muted colors reflecting along the steep sides, the dark shadows in the breaks. He paused to drink from a deep pool, cool water, the sky reflected in a muted color of blue. The mountains themselves were in shades of browns and terra cottas, the clouds above a fluffy white. Yellow wildflowers bloomed in small patches here and there, along with green grass fed by the pool. Color surrounded him, not glaring, but soft, comforting his spirit. The sacred colors of his people. He raised his head to watch an eagle soar above, turned to see a quick flash of movement as a small furred creature sought shelter in the rocks.

A voice, firm and low, greeted, "welcome, Seeker. Come, take your ease, and you can tell me what brought you here, to the place of Knowing." He turned toward the voice, seeing a form in the shadows. Gradually the tall figure became more visible, and Chief saw one of his own kind, similar features, wearing the garb of an Apache shaman.

"I seek . . ." but found himself at a loss to explain what he was seeking, perhaps because he didn't really know for sure. 

Somehow, the other man seemed to understand, for he nodded, "yes, I can see that. You seek. Well, perhaps that is enough for now, that you know you are not in possession of the knowledge you must have. Yes, that is enough to begin." 

And they sat and talked of many things, a man's need for his heritage, his need for family, his need to become that which was given him to become. They talked of paths, more than once; whether a man was fated to follow only one path or whether he had choices. The shaman had smiled, shook his head gently.

"Surely there are many paths open to a man. There is the path that was meant to be his in the beginning, but a man does not walk this world alone. Those others have the power to deflect him from his path, especially when he is young. Still, the time comes when a man must take the reins in his own hands, choose the path he wishes to walk, at least for a period of time. A man does not have to walk the same path forever; sometimes there are other paths that open to him."

And Chief again remembered those he'd left behind, longing for them now with a hard urgency. "How does a man choose his path? When those he loves are at the end of one path, that which he was maybe destined to be, at the end of another? How does he choose?"

The shaman, in his wisdom, shook his head again and answered, "and why must a man choose only one or the other? Could not a wise man, a determined man merge those two paths together? It might not be an easy thing to do, but a warrior does not look for the 'easy thing', but the right thing - the thing, the path that is right for him AND for those he loves." 

Time seemed to pass without reckoning, perhaps days, perhaps longer. Til the morning Chief arose and found the shaman waiting for him, with a bundle of buckskin in his outstretched arms.

"Go, bathe in the pool, and dress yourself for your journey, Seeker. I believe you return in triumph, having found that which you seek."

And when Chief came forth from the blue water, pausing long enough to let the warm air dry his body, he dressed himself in the soft buckskins, decorated with fringe and elaborate quill-work. As he slipped the high, boot-like moccasins on his feet and laced them in place, he turned to say his farewells, but the shaman was gone, as if he'd never been there at all. 

Calmly, with steadfast self-assurance, Chief walked out of the mountains, searching for his paths, knowing now there would be at least two he would walk, would somehow form into one. He kept at a regular pace; there was no hurry, not now. It would come, all of it, in the proper time, and he would be ready. ***

 

Felane had started to wake him, fearing he'd get a crick in his neck, but Lupan had shook his head firmly, drew her away. 

"He dream-walks, my love. Maybe in that realm he will find some answers."

She understood; the destination was probably different than that of the Clan; he probably was not walking the Moon Path, but there was much in common, if the old stories were true. She would leave him to his sleep, and ask the Sweet Mother to guide him in his search.

They were seated at the table, breakfast in front of them, when Chief spoke. He didn't relate his dream, no, for now that was very private. But he did say, "Lupan, I'd like to meet your shamans. I need to see just how much I can re-claim."

Lupan reached for his coffee cup, "we'll leave tomorrow. Felane, I'll call Drury and Peggity; they'll come help out here while I'm gone. I don't know how long . . ." and the two shared a long look.

"As long as you need, the both of you. I'll be here when you get back."

 

There were four of them, very different in some ways, but with an aura of power surrounding each of them. Three of them were of full Apache blood, one only half, but still bearing the looks of the tribe in his strong face. One was very old, wrinkled and walked with a staff. One was impatient, as if always feeling he had someplace else to be; the old one teased him about that.

They cautiously accepted Chief as one seeking knowledge, after Lupan had spoken for him, calling him Family, 'brother-in-spirit to my own sons and daughters'. Lupan might have left the reservation to walk his own path many years ago, but they had respect for him, and took Chief with them to a place of meditation, of learning, to see just how much he held within him. They left, leaving Lupan gazing after them, hoping this had been the right thing to do.

Now, he could only wait. Well, wait, and renew his acquaintance with others he remembered from his years here. Wait, missing his Felane, missing their own place, but fulfilling the request made by his daughter, to help Chief find his way. Meghada had always been fiercely independent, had asked so little of him, and her road was one of such tumult; surely, he could do this one small thing for her. For her, and for Chief.

It was another week before the message came, the message that told him to return home, alone. That they had found Chief an acceptable student. There was no more, nothing about when he should return, or even if. That didn't surprise him; from what he remembered about the shamans, they weren't particularly forthcoming; sometimes he thought they did it just to annoy. Felane had said much the same about the Grandmother of the Clan, he remembered.

He packed his things, thinking about how he was going to explain this to the ones waiting back home - both homes. Felane would accept his explanation, he knew. He had a strong feeling Meghada was going to have her work cut out for her, keeping everyone back, convincing them to let Chief deal with this in his own way, his own time. He didn't envy her the task.

***

"Ruddy 'ell, 'Gaida! It's been a month! Not a ruddy word!"

"Patience, laddie, he needs this time."

Goniff snorted in annoyance.

"Don't see why it's taking so long, Actor! Two months!! Should 'ave 'eard something by now, don't you think??!"

"Calm down, Goniff. Enlightenment is not an overnight process."

"Where's that brick I used on you a time or two, Casino? Never thought I'd 'ave to use it on Chiefy! Always thought 'e was too smart for such nonsense! Three bloody months!"

"Look, ya dumb Limey, what can I tell ya??!! If the Indian don't want to let us know how he's doing, nothin we can do about it." The hurt look in Casino's brown eyes told Goniff that their safecracker wasn't any happier about the current state of affairs than he was, maybe even less so.

"Craig, enough is enough! We waited ruddy well long enough! Almost five months already!! Could 'ave gotten 'imself in all kinds of trouble by now! We gotta go after 'im, make sure 'e knows we want 'im to come 'ome!"

"Goniff . . ." Garrison never got any further in his efforts to calm the little Englishman down.

A voice from the hallway grabbed all of their attention, "guess that means my room's still waitin for me?"

And total chaos broke out, with shouts, and hugs and firm handshakes.

Meghada had stepped back after delivering her own firm hug and kiss to that familiar cheek. Yes, there was a difference, a strong air of contentment, an aura of internal strength, power, well beyond what she'd seen in the young man before. His eyes met hers briefly, and he nodded, acknowledging the truth of what she'd seen.

Then his eyes turned, to look into those so familiar brown ones, the ones he'd seen in his dreams so many nights while he'd been gone. He smiled, "you been keeping Goniff outta trouble, Casino?" setting off a stream of indignant protests on Goniff's part, and a litany of abuse from Casino about the impossibility of that task.

"Bout time you got back to share the load, Indian; caught him prancing over those clay tiles at the Mansion last week in the middle of a freakin rainstorm, and before that . . . Well, let's just say Mrs Wilson aint too inclined to let him back in that storage shed of hers! And don't get me started about the shit he's pulled other places!! Just aint up to the job on my own; in fact, think I'm gonna step back and let YOU take over for awhile!"

Chief let out a sigh of relief; looked like things here hadn't changed much. He was glad; that let him know the path was still steady and clear under his feet.

Yes, there had been conversations, Chief telling them a little about his time away. Not any of the 'secrets', nothing about the shaman lodge or his training; no, that wasn't allowed, but there was other stuff. He told them about the sacred colors in the desert and the mountains, and how they'd brought peace to his mind; when he went thru the litany, he smiled just a little, remembering that night he'd found comfort in knowing he had those sacred colors here too, in the person of these men, his brothers-in-spirit. He told them about Lupan's place, the wide spaces, the horses, the dogs.

"Dogs like Max?" Goniff had asked eagerly.

"Yeah, some, but lots of other kinds. There was one I kinda hated to leave behind, bigger than Max by a lot, but not half the size of Estelle."

(There was some hint of longing there, and Goniff determined to ask if Meghada didn't think they could fit another dog in here, maybe have her ask Lupan if he knew which one Chiefy had gotten attached to; maybe that'd make sure Chiefy didn't take off again.)

"And Felane, she really can cook. Stuff I remember from when I was a little kid. Well, Meghada already cooks some of that, but there was a hominy dish, hot as blue blazes, I've never seen her make; gonna see if I can have her do that sometime. And Felane's fritters? Goniff, you wouldn't be able to walk away from the table, you'd eat so many."

Chief had told them of that Apache woman, certainly not a 'maiden', who'd thought he was prime husband material. Meghada and Lynn had already sought out their beds, or he wouldn't have ventured into that territory.

"Really something, she was, long black hair, pretty as she could be, but the shamans told me, she was looking for another husband, not just a fling. Seems she wore them out soon as she got them, too; gone through three already. Wasn't interested in that," daring to cast a glance over at Casino who had flames in his brown eyes.

"Still, have to admit, she was something else." Somehow, seeing the flames, maybe, hopefully, of jealousy in those rich brown eyes, gave him hope. "Well, she kept comin around. Finally told her I was one of the 'spirit-chosen', those who weren't allowed to do such things, meddling with females and such. The shamans I was training with, first time I'd heard them laugh, when I told them that. The old one, he told me he wished HE'D thought of that years ago, would've save him a boat load of trouble! She went away, cussing a blue streak, but she kept her distance from then on." 

Casino took his time undressing for the night, not even feeling the need for that extra drink or two he'd needed ever since Chief had left in order to get to sleep. No, nothing left to trouble his mind - Chief was back home where he belonged. Everything was back to normal. Now, if he could just get those damned dreams, those fantasies under control . . . 

Chief lay back on his bed, reveling in being home again. He'd opened the Dutch door to the garden, intending to close it before he fell asleep, but somehow that hadn't happened. He fell asleep to the smell of the flowers, the damp vegetation, and it had the smell of arousal imbedded in it. Brown eyes haunted his dreams, promising him more than he'd ever dreamed he could have. Would he have the courage to reach out, take what he wanted? 

Goniff had snuggled down between his own two loves, content with his world. That there would be other issues that came up, that he didn't doubt. But with every challenge, his confidence in their ability to overcome, to win, that increased as well. Tomorrow, well tomorrow he needed to talk to Meghada about that dog . . .

Epilogue - two weeks later:  
He stopped short as he walked into his room after saying goodnight to everyone. There she was, stretched out on his rug, serene and calm, as if she'd ALWAYS made that her spot. Honey brown coat, huge brown eyes, a welcoming grin on her face, her tongue lolling out in greeting.

"Jacali" he breathed, and she got to her feet and quickly came to lean against him, waiting for his hand to caress her ears like before.

A voice from behind him, "sure 'ope Lupan was right, about which one it was, I mean."

He turned his head to see a grinning Goniff in the doorway, the others behind him, wide smiles on their faces as well.

"Yeah, Goniff, he was right. This is Jacali," as he introduced his new roommate to his friends, a similar smile on his own face. Jacali was still grinning; this was her person, she'd known it from the first moment they met, and she was more than happy to be back with him again, this time for good.


End file.
